


You Are Someone Else, I Am Still Right Here

by Emberxashton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Dark Avengers - Freeform, Dark Tony Stark, F/F, F/M, Ghosts, Hybrids, Inspired by The Haunting of Hill House, M/M, Multi, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Possessive Natasha Romanov, Possessive Steve Rogers, Possessive Tony Stark, Supernatural Hunters, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, Witch Curses, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29340852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberxashton/pseuds/Emberxashton
Summary: On Cassie Lang's 11th birthday, her life completely changed. Her Dad, her friends, and nearly everyone she loved were murdered. Murdered by the deranged Tony Stark, who was driven out of his mind by the house he and the rest of his family just moved into. A place known across Westview as "Hell House" due to the bloody history and numerous reports of hauntings. Somewhere no one dared to go lest they want to be driven mad too. Cassie barely managed to escape with her life, along with the lives of a baby who had been born that very same night and unruly teenager with a heart of gold, Harley Keener.Nearly five years later, Cassie still feels the effect of Hell House, now known as the Stark Mansion. She dreams about it every night, remembers the horrible events with terrible clarity, but not once has she returned. She's cared for the baby like she were her own, and in her mind she was as good as, and named her Morgan in honor of her mother. She never plans to go back, nor would she want Morgan to see it, but Harley Keener has other plans.Plans that are sure to bring nothing but trouble for Harley, for Cassie, and for young Morgan who has no idea what her father became.More tags to be added!
Relationships: Cassie Lang & Hank Pym, Cassie Lang & Harley Keener, Cassie Lang & Hope Van Dyne, Cassie Lang & Jim Paxton, Cassie Lang & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Cassie Lang & Natasha Romanov, Cassie Lang & Peter Parker, Cassie Lang & Pietro Maximoff, Cassie Lang & Scott Lang, Cassie Lang & Steve Rogers, Cassie Lang & Tony Stark, Cassie Lang & Wanda Maximoff, Erik Killmonger/T'Challa, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Cassie Lang, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Kudos: 8





	You Are Someone Else, I Am Still Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! Thank you so much for picking my story to read today! I hope you're doing great and staying safe out there!
> 
> Fair warning, I'm not 100% sure I'm going to continue this work. My main reason for posting this chapter is, apart from thinking it's awesome and wanting to share it with you guys, to motivate myself into continuing it. I've had this idea in my head for awhile, and I've come up with a tangible plot for it, I'm just lacking the motivation to write it. So, go ahead and read the chapter, and if you guys think I should continue it, send me a comment or hit that kudos button :D. Thank you!
> 
> P.S. Sorry for the grammar mistakes, this work is NOT beta read.
> 
> P.S.S. Also, pics at the end because I can't help it. I like visuals when I can use them.

July 19, 1997

Thunder boomed. Lightning shot through the dark, dancing across the night sky in bright spectrals with fantastical precision. Rain poured down on the cobblestone leading to the worn, rustic church that resided off a beaten path and nestled firmly within a thicket of trees. It’s steeple was bent and broken, barely attached due to the neglect it suffered throughout its tenure. Neglect that was aided by storms such as this. Storms that raged and destroyed everything in its path. The once bright and welcoming outer wooden walls were rotten and decayed. An opulent and holy place merely 50 years ago now worn down and disused. A place that was a safe haven for lost souls and weary travelers now seemingly abandoned, forgotten.

Only it isn’t.

The exterior of the church was dingy and hopeless, but through the windows lights can be seen. Small, flickering flames from a plethora of candles gleaming inside. Lights that were recently lit. Lights that called to a poor and stranded soul caught in the storm. One that had been outside and suffered from it’s downpour for far too long. A soul that was lost and scared, pushing through the rain in an effort to find some semblance of shelter. Of something to spare her from its brutal pounding, the harsh winds that cut deep to her bones, and the terrifying streaks of lightning that seemed to follow her with every step she took. 

The lost soul was a woman. Young and innocent, small and slight, and no older than sixteen. She fell against the small, creaking metal gate barricading the church. An unfortunate combination of the wind shoving her from behind, and her own exhaustion causing her to fall. It broke from her sudden weight, crashing to the cobblestone ground beneath her. She whimpered, tears falling down her face. Though the rain quickly washed it away, there was blood on her hands. On her clothes. Now on the cobblestone. She was hurt. Very hurt. Despite that, she took a deep breath and pushed back her tears. Her pained gaze turned hopeful as the lights from the window became clearer. 

Almost there. 

With a sharp grunt, she pushed herself off the gate and back to her feet. Stumbling over the metal grating as she reached for the cobblestone path. Almost there. Almost. She tripped once more, but stayed mostly oriented this time. She pushed and she pushed. Forcing her feet to stay beneath her. Almost there. Keep going. The wind threatened to hurl her to the side, but she stayed standing. She reached a set of stairs leading up to the main entrance. Falling forward, unable to stay standing for much longer, she crawled. Using her hands to pull her body closer to the shelter. Almost there. Almost. 

She reached out.

A sudden bright light blinded her, but was quickly overtaken by a shadow. She gasped, shielding her face and cowering away for the briefest of moments before she stopped. No. She’s not hiding. Not this time. She took a deep breath, and looked up. 

The shadow that sheathed the sudden light was a person. A person wearing all black. A man. She couldn’t see his face, but the silhouette he casted made it simple to distinguish him. Or she could be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a man but someone shaped like a man, or maybe something else that she didn’t entirely understand. Who was she to judge? Doesn’t matter now. She looked up to the man. The rain and her tears made it difficult to see his face. She didn’t care. Her tears overtook her, reaching out once more to grab the man’s boot.

“Please. Help me.”

~~~~~

July 19th, 5 years prior

_If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me. Time after time._

_If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting. Time after time._

“Peanut,” a sing-song voice bounded through the room, interrupting the music that blared from the alarm clock. “Time to wake up! The almost birthday girl is late for work at the manor!”

In a bedroom filled with pinks and purples, stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes, glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling, fairy lights hanging on the headboard of the bed, and children’s sized clothes strewn about the room was Scott Lang. A proud father and hardworking man moving ever so quietly through the child’s room on the tip of his toes, and a giddy smile on his face. The pink and silver radio was playing on the purple bed stand and signalling the time of 8:02, which meant _someone_ was sleeping through her alarm. 

“Peanut,” Scott whispered, approaching the lump that was his daughter’s sleeping form underneath her Scooby-Doo blanket. “If you don’t get up, the gobble monster is going to get you.”

He took two more steps, wiggled his fingers menacingly, and prepared to pounce on his little girl.

The closet behind him burst open, and with it came the shout, “not before Xena, warrior princess does!”

Scott gasped, turning just in time to catch a flying pillow aimed directly at his face. Mouth agape, eyes widened, Scott hugged the pillow close to his chest and fought to catch his breath. After a moment, he started laughing, admiration taking over his expression. 

Standing back straight with her hands on her hips and chin sticking up high in the air, Cassie Lang grinned at her Dad in victory. “I’ve beaten you Gobble Monster! Bow before your new ruler before I feed you to my ant army!”

“No!” Scott gasped in faux shock, frightfully tightening his hold on his pillow. “Not the ant army! Anything but that!”

Cassie pursed her lips. “Well, then 100 hours of community service will have to do.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you my most benevolent ruler. How may I start completing this most merciful task?”

She stretched her arms out, “by hugging me and making me cereal.”

“I think I can manage that,” Scott grinned, dropping the pillow onto her bed and pulling her up into his arms. “ Lucky or Toucan?”

“Lucky!” Cassie proclaimed, wrapping her arms around Scott’s neck and holding on tightly. “Just like us.”

“Exactly,” Scott smiled, kissing her forehead. “The luckiest family in the world.”

~~~~~

July 19, 1997

Thunder boomed. Loud. Pronounced. Like a bass drummer getting their chance to shine in the middle of a marching contest. Lightning crashed shortly afterward, causing the young woman to wake up gasping. 

She wasn’t outside. The rain wasn’t pelting her. She wasn’t cold anymore. She was warm. Warm and comfortable. Safe. Safe from the storm. Safe from . . . them. Or was she?

She took in the state of the room, fighting to get her breathing under control. Apart from the candles that were lit near the window, certainly the ones she miraculously saw in the woods, there was no other source of light in the room. It looked to be an office of some sort, but there were no phones. No computer. Nothing. Just a cabinet filled with old, dusty books from what she could see. A table littered with paperwork and open envelopes with even more papers and random knick knacks strewn about the floor in a huff. She looked down. She was on the desk. 

And wearing a different shirt.

It was white and plain, at least three sizes too big for her, and very much not hers. She shot up from her resting position, squeaking in pain at the sharp movement. Her hands went to her side, shocked to find a strange substance wrapped around her injured area. She lifted the shirt, eyebrows disappearing into her hair when she saw a bandage. Gauze and medical tape wrapped tightly and succinctly around her ribs, with gauze folded and placed carefully on the right side of her ribs. The place that hurt the most. The place that was bleeding when she stumbled through the gate. 

The rest of her body was in a similar state. 

Her shoes were gone, and her right ankle was taped in a way that better supported it. Her hands were also bandaged, and when she pulled them close she could smell the faint scent of alcohol coating the skin. She felt a bandage on her back as well. Right above her left shoulder. Her breath kicked up again, glancing around the room in a fright. Who did this? How did she get in here?

There was a sharp, creaking sound behind her. She grunted in pain once more as she turned sharply to face it, eyes searching for a weapon, for anything to defend herself with. Her legs just swung down and prepared her to stand when the creaking sound grew louder. More pronounced. Distinguishable. 

A door. An old, creaky door. More light entered the room. 

The man. The man in black. It’s him. 

A breath escaped her. He was handsome. Long blonde hair combed back so it was out of his eyes, structured face with a darker beard. Kind. Honest. Tall. So tall. Muscular too. He held a candle in his hand. An old, melted candle that hasn’t been used in what seemed like years. The dust on the holder attested to that. The man brought the candle closer to his face. Eyes. Blue eyes. They seemed wary, hesitant.

He stared at her carefully, eyes fluttering to the places where bandages are prevalent, Measuring the state of her. She retreated back a step, unsure of his intentions. The creaking of the door finally stopped once he opened it all the way. He didn’t speak, just watched her. She watched him in return, retreating back another step.

Silence.

“My name’s Steve,” the man stated softly, “and I’m the Deacon of this church. Will you tell me who you are and what happened to you?”

“I’m Cassie,” the girl responded after a minute, “and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

His lip quirked, but his brow furrowed. “I believe in many things, Cassie. Things that most only fantasize, romanticize, or even agonize about in everyday life. Things that can scare even the bravest of men. Things that could hurt innocents like yourself. Things I’m not afraid to admit or foolish enough to ignore.” He took a small step forward, stopping when she took another step back in response. “Please Cassie, please tell me what happened to you.”

She watched him, appraising him. He remained still. Patient. Worried. She sniffled, looking at the bandages on her hands. “Did you bandage me up?”

“I did,” Steve confirmed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t ask for your permission first. You were losing a lot of blood, and we’re in the middle of nowhere. There was no time to waste.”

“So you,” Cassie stopped, breathing in a shaky breath, “you saw? Saw my - my wounds?”

“I did,” he nodded, forehead wrinkling in concern.

“Then do you really need me to tell you what happened?” Cassie returned sharply, defensively. Shoulders hunching in.

Steve risked another step forward. “I do, Cassie. I need to know. Will you tell me?”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared. Unblinking. He waited, staring back just the same. Those blue eyes wide with concern.

“Please Cassie,” he whispered, “please tell me.”

Silence.

Cassie exhaled, defeated. Eyes welling up with tears. “I need you to believe me.”

He took another step. “I will.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Another step. “Cassie, I promise I’ll believe you. Please tell me. Let me help you.”

Cassie shrank away from his pursuit, arms gingerly wrapping around her torso. Her eyes went down to the floor, staring at all the papers and knick knacks. Even in the dim light she could see all the dust. Steve took another step towards her, finally stopping just a few feet away from her. 

“Cassie?”

She took a deep breath, then looked up at him. 

“Vampires.”

(Cassie now)

(Scott and young Cassie hugging)

(Steve worried)

**Author's Note:**

> That's all I got! Please let me know if I should keep going with this, and put anything you'd like to see! Keep in mind, if I do keep going, it'll mostly be from Cassie's P.O.V. and maybe Harley's too. I haven't decided. Anyways! Thanks for reading! :D


End file.
